


Bury The Castle

by lightningrapunzel



Series: Jewels Between Teeth [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, King Loki, Loki Does What He Wants, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Thor: The Dark World Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6336898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightningrapunzel/pseuds/lightningrapunzel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been a year since she and Loki parted, and Eva has finally settled. Yet with Loki's death, Asgard is fragile, and Thor is uneasy. Eva might not want Asgard, but it needs her, and she is pulled right back into their politics with a king who seems determined to wrest her from Earth forever. Sequel to 'Into The Jaws of The Serpent'. Post-TDW. (Possible M rating to come.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preface

She no longer needed an escort to get to work each time. Public transport was almost easy now. Trains, auburn wig, sunglasses. It seemed to work well enough. No one approached her, no one whispered insults, no one tried to start a fight. Not that she let herself be baited. An ever so brief stint as a king's 'whore' had taught her that much.

This morning, however?

As she turned the corner into Gordon Square, her heart stuttered, and then fell to her stomach. She had half a mind to turn and run, but she had to get into work, and there was only one way in. Except the only way was barred by shouting crowds – and four very obvious aliens.

"Oh, fuck,  _fuck_  – "

"I know, right?" a stranger commented as he stood beside her, staring at the Asgardians. "They've got a nerve showing up after the last catastrophe."

"Er, yeah – 'scuse me – " Eva walked away from the man as casually as she could, her eyes on the four visitors. They could have been so inconspicuous were it not for the golden armour and the spears three of them bore. Einherjar. What the  _hell_  were the Einherjar doing here?

There was no way she could cut through the swathe of onlookers, or the police. Any minute now and the army would show up, and then the fun would truly begin. The Einherjar were not violent unless provoked, but as for their leader?

Sif was fucking terrifying in battle, and her current expression was so tense Eva was surprised she hadn't snapped. In fact, not one of them had, at all. It looked as though Sif was trying to negotiate with a police chief, in vain. It was clear whom they were here for, and Eva felt her stomach crawl. Not that she had anything against Asgard, but she'd spent the past year keeping her head down, securing a job, ignoring the jeers and protests and occasional violence that was sent her way. Now she was at a point in her life where everything was just starting to settle down.

And now this.

There was nothing for it. Sif and the guards wouldn't leave without what they came for, and though they had nothing against Earth, Eva knew damn well they'd defend themselves against an attack in a heartbeat. It was with the greatest reluctance that she removed the glasses and wig, shoving them in her satchel, and she began to weave her way through the crowds. No one noticed her at first, but the moment she locked eyes with Sif, the warrior instantly knelt, followed by the Einherjar. The crowd fell deathly silent, and slowly heads turned. Swallowing the terror that gripped her, Eva continued to walk, and surprisingly a path was soundlessly made. Even the police stared wordlessly, and as she reached Sif, she smiled grimly.

"I thought I told your king I wanted nothing more from your realm. And for god's sake, get up. I'm not a princess anymore."

Sif's eyebrows quirked, but she and the Einherjar rose to their feet, fisted hands dropping from their chests. Eva sighed, and Sif made to speak.

"My lady – Eva – His Majesty desires nothing. This is a personal call." It was only then that Eva saw the dread in Sif's eyes, causing her to frown and step forward.

"Sif, what –"

"Loki is dead," she murmured, and Eva felt ice wash over her in waves.  _Dead? How could he – he –_

"How?" she whispered, for the jeering had started up again. "How did he die?"

"It was a sacrifice," came the soft answer, and Eva thought she heard more than just a note of remorse. "He saved his brother's life. I misjudged him. We all did. Eva, I – I'm so sorry. I know this was not ideal, but this was the closest Heimdall could get us, and I did not think – "

"It's alright," Eva heard herself say dimly, waving her apologies away. "It's alright."

It wasn't; it was cold and shattering and everything seemed to blur yet stay focused all at once. The shouting was a muffled din, Sif's next words unintelligible.  _He's dead, he's dead, he's dead –_

Eva turned away, pushing through the crowds to reach her work's door, ignoring everything but her desperate need to reach somewhere  _away from all of this_. Her fingers fumbled, pale and slipping and trembling, and then she was inside, the door pressed shut behind her. And still she heard nothing, nothing at all, not even the co-workers asking if she was okay, that she looked pale, and did she need to sit down?

A click of a lock, and she gripped the sides of a porcelain sink, staring into the water-stained mirror. Even with makeup, she looked as if she'd seen death – and how ironic that was. She could almost laugh were it not for the fact that it was the last thing she wanted to do. Even for  _him_ , that would be cruel beyond measure. Not even he deserved such disrespect in death – especially if his death had been all for Asgard's sake. Sacrifice. Even Loki, with his blackened heart, hadn't been able to resist a bit of redemption. Typical.

A spark caught her eye, and she stared at the ring adorning her left hand, the diamond peeking in the sunlight that streamed through a window. A ring that she'd wanted at the time – god, she'd been ecstatic when Zach asked – but at this moment, this awful, empty moment… it only reminded her of  _him_. The smile, the laugh, the fear, the twisted, twisted games they'd played. Cat and mouse, over and over and over again. The same game with the same winner, yet they'd never been able to stop it until it had boiled over and flooded everything they knew.

And now he was gone.

She was leaning over the toilet and emptying her stomach before she could even register it, and she closed her eyes, resting her head on the cold, soothing porcelain rim.

"Fuck you, Loki Laufeyson," she whispered. " _Fuck you_."

And she had no idea whether she spoke out of grief or relief.


	2. A Storm, Brewing

Eva Manning was under no illusion that she was on the British government’s watch list – on _every_ government’s watch list. The fact that she was able to work and still have relative freedom did not change that. She was acutely aware that she would never stop being observed. Tony Stark had done her a favour and removed all the bugs from her apartment, but she knew that would never be enough.

            And Sif’s appearance was an awful reminder of it. It had never really occurred to her how much Loki had fucked up her life until after he had been taken back to Asgard. Without his ‘protection’ – and how ironic that was – she was fodder for the world. A free for all, and no number of bodyguards could have shielded her. There was no point going through a witness protection programme – _everyone_ knew her face. Oh, there had been a trial, but it was a farce. There was no real evidence to incriminate her – even Loki’s staff, bless their hearts, had sworn in court that she had been as much of a prisoner as they had. And so the judge was forced to acquit her of every charge brought against her.

            Not that it satisfied the public. Jeering, leering, spitting, swearing, shoving… She’d half considered committing a crime so she might be put in prison, away from all of it. Only half. It was a fool’s thought, after all. Even so, she wouldn’t have got the royal treatment that she guessed Loki would have been given in prison; she highly doubted Frigga had the capability to be cruel to Loki, even if Odin did.

            And now Loki was dead.

            “Eva.”

            Dragged to the present, she lifted her head from the toilet seat to see her fiancé crouching by the stall, his face softening in concern. Her heart twisted with guilt, and her voice was a rasp.

            “He’s dead,” she whispered. “Loki’s dead, Zach.”

            Zachary blinked, and his hand reached to stroke her back. A warm, tender hand, quite unlike the chill of Loki’s skin, the rough touch.

            “I gathered,” he answered quietly, his voice a tenor lilt. “I spoke to the Asgardian – Sif, I think? She explained everything. Eva… I’m so sorry.”

            And the horrible thing was, Eva knew he meant it. Zach had never held Loki against her, not once. He was quite possibly the most understanding person she had ever met, and she’d easily fallen for him. He was everything Loki wasn’t – and so damn _normal_ that whenever she saw him her heart sang.

            “I know.” Her voice cracked, and she shivered. Her mouth tasted vile, and she must have pulled a face, because his face turned wry and he began rootling through her satchel, pulling out her smaller bag of essentials. An unzipping, a mumbling, and then “aha!” followed by the show of toothbrush and paste. He looked so pleased with himself that Eva could not help but laugh, and gratefully accepted the proffered items.

            “You angel,” she declared affectionately, getting to her feet and somewhat stumbling to the sink. He simply watched as she cleaned her mouth, her bag held in his hand. Unlike Loki, however, he was easy to read. He didn’t conceal things. He was an open book. A clever one, but an open one nonetheless.

            “Better?” he asked as she rinsed the brush. She uttered a noise of assent, wiping her mouth dry and sighing.

            “Are the Einherjar still there? Because if they are… Well. I don’t know what I’m going to say to them. I’m not a princess of Asgard anymore. Loki’s dead. I have no ties to them anymore.”

            “No, they’re gone,” Zach replied, running his free hand through his mop of unruly fair hair. “They flatly refused to go with the police. Said their business was with you and only you. I think Sif was hoping to say a bit more, but you bolted. I told her you needed time alone, and she accepted that. I don’t know if they’ve gone to see Jane Foster – she’s in London, isn’t she?”

            “I wasn’t exactly going to empty my stomach in front of all of those people. And I think so. I don’t really keep track.”

            His lips twitched. “Well, no. Anyway, everyone’s dispersed. No more public shaming to do. You’re free to do what you want.” He leant against the stall. “Do you want to go home? Your supervisor said you could leave if you needed to.”

            “That sounds like giving up.” She turned away from the sink, but he gently clasped her hand, his thumb brushing her ring.

            “Hey. Look at me.” His eyes were gentle, and his fingers stroked her cheek. “You just lost someone you cared about. That’s enough to give anyone a day off. He was important to you. And you’re allowed to grieve, Eva. No matter what everyone else thinks of him.”

            Oh, how badly she wanted to use that human excuse, to cry and wail and lament – but she had not seen him for a year, and had never intended to see him again. No. He didn’t deserve her grief. Her eyes hardened, and she shook her head.

            “No. I’m done. I was just shocked, that’s all. I’ll stay.”

            Zach looked unconvinced, but he did not push it, and after a series of kisses that quite frankly made Eva’s heart skip about a hundred beats, he was gone, leaving her to dive into her research.

            It was research that she was uniquely qualified to do, being fluent in the Asgardian tongue. Of course, she was well aware that Asgardians made use of the ‘Allspeak’ to communicate with humans, but their own language was something that had barely been addressed. And she was rapidly finding differences between their tongue and the closest human relative, Old Norse. It was fascinating, despite the history that had led her to fluency, and there were several academics arguing the benefits of using the Asgardian tongue instead of ‘making’ Asgardians speak Earth languages. And as she was the only person able to differentiate, she was in high demand. Even foreign relations departments from different countries were pleading for her to come in case of another ‘invasion’ – the U.S. government had been so insistent and downright threatening that she’d half yelled at them to leave her alone – but all Eva really wanted to do was keep her head down and focus on her scholarly work. Oh, she’d teach her colleagues, if only because they asked politely and out of genuine linguistic interest, but as for everyone else? She didn’t really give a damn.

            “Coffee?”

            “Sure,” she answered her supervisor absent-mindedly, poring over a manuscript page, lost in thought. The ink was faded, though still readable, and she scanned the lines of text, searching for any linguistic similarities.

            _“My library is so much better, Lena.”_

            Eva dropped her pencil in shock, whirling around so fast that her chair banged into the desk. Her heart pounded – but there was nobody there. Nobody that sounded exactly like _that voice_.

            “You alright?” someone asked. Eva nodded slowly, frowning. No one. Just herself, her manuscript, her colleagues, and many concerned expressions.

            “Y-Yes. Just… nothing. Thought I heard something. I’m fine.” She threw them all a very shaky smile before turning back to her work. Her gloved hands were trembling violently, and she dared not touch the manuscript in case she damaged it. Her body had gone so cold that she pulled at her jumper, tucking her hands half in the sleeves, and she could not help but imagine that cool breath tickling her ear, the soft laughter, the curve of his smile brushing against her cheek, and the scent of his skin, his hair... It was so painfully real that she shuddered, blinking back sudden, traitorous tears.

            _You’re not real; you’re dead. It was just a thought._

A pause, then –

            “ _Am I?”_

            There it was again. Eva laughed, half out of hysteria, and shook her head. Now she really was losing it. The dreams had finally stopped, and now she was getting hallucinations?

            _Ridiculous. You’re being ridiculous. Shut up and concentrate on your work, you idiot._

            If only she’d seen the shadow moving across the room. But nobody noticed a thing. They were all too engrossed in their work to see the shade of a man glide from her desk to the door – and then vanish, as if he’d never been there at all.

            “Bloody _hell_ – “

“What the fuck is _that_?”

            “ _Christ_ , I’ve never – “

            Eva lifted her head at the room’s commotion, and she blinked, caught off guard. Her stare was openly stunned as she watched snow falling thickly outside her window. Nothing unusual, except snow _never ever fell this thickly in London._ Not like this, not nowadays. In the north perhaps, but for the south, it was unheard of. The snowfall was tantamount to a snow _storm_ , and she could hear outside individuals shouting, students swearing, the universal shock of human beings realising that Mother Nature had played them for fools and _this was global warming happening just like they said and fuck how am I going to get home now?_

The sound of their panic made her laugh, and Eva sighed, suitably distracted to walk to the windows, standing beside her fellow students as they all captured it on film. _No doubt Twitter and Facebook would be inundated now_ , she mused, smiling wryly at the thought. It was a lovely diversion from her stress, this thick blanket of pure white, and for a moment, she was quietly content to observe.

            Just as the shadow was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And we're off. Huzzah. Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> Lightning xoxo


	3. Dreaming, Dreading, Desperate

His hands curved around her hips, and Eva tilted her head back as he bent to kiss her. His groin pressed forth; she could feel the heat, and this music only fanned the flames.

"Do you remember what I told you?" he murmured, and spun her to face him, his hand splaying over the small of her back. "Do you remember, Lena?"

Eva eyed him warily even as her lips began to curve.

"You told me many things. Specify."

Soft laughter, and the strap of her dress snapped. His mouth hovered above hers; had she leant up, she could have kissed him. But his lips never made it – instead his voice was a whisper, a torturous reminder.

"I said you were  _mine_."

* * *

Eva sat upright, panting. Sweat slicked her palms, her thighs, under her breasts. Beside her Zach slept on, utterly unaware of her turmoil. Frustrated, she wiped her hands on the duvet, loosely hugging her knees as she listened to drunken singing outside. A bottle smashed, followed by raucous laughter, and it struck her how different it was to her life a year ago. Both chaotic, but this... This was a kind of chaos she could live with.

Feeling an awful chill creep up her bones, she slid out of bed, careful not to wake Zach, and tied a robe around her waist, padding into the kitchen and simply leaning against the sink. Moonlight streamed; she saw a lone spider scuttle through a ray on the floor and disappear into the shadows. Something shrieked outside, though Eva did not even flinch. She was far too used to sudden things to jump. Her hands ran through her hair, and she softly groaned. The temptation to slap herself was horribly strong, though she refrained for the sake of being quiet.

All that sat in her brain, all that played over and over, was that desire. That terrible, ancient,  _aching_  desire. But if she took that step, if she allowed herself to even disturb those waters, what hope did she have for calm again?

Closure, closure. Over and over.  _No, no, don't do it, it's foolish, it's inane, unnecessary._

And yet.

Somehow she found herself fully dressed, a note scribbled and left for Zach on her pillow, and the front door closing behind her. Quite how she did it, she could not and would never remember, only knowing that it passed in that odd cliché blur that so often happened. Her booted feet made their way down the cold midnight streets, quiet but urgent. There was no need for wigs or sunglasses here, and no fear gripped her. She was too determined to even consider feeling such a thing. Instead she walked – strode, really. There was no seesawing between destinations – no, she knew. Knew in her bones, her blood.

And as the dusty ground kicked up under her feet, as she arrived at the deserted park, she tilted her head up to the sky.

"Heimdall."

* * *

"Eva! Eva!"

She lifted her head, utterly confused – and then Zach's face swam into focus. With a hideous start, she realised she'd dreamt both scenarios, and she'd fallen asleep at her desk. Loki was dead. It had been a week since the damning news. She was present now, grounded, and her fiancé knelt by her chair, one hand on her back, a steaming mug of what smelled like peppermint tea in the other. A frown creased his brow, though it lessened when she blinked awake.

"W-What – did I fall asleep?"

"Mmhm. Here." He placed the mug by her laptop, careful to avoid an electrical catastrophe. "What had you twitching? Your face… You looked in pain. Was it a bad dream?"

"Yeah." She was abruptly reluctant to divulge details, and instead took the mug in both hands. In her stomach, a mix of emotions pooled – and she inwardly winced as she realised what one was. Longing. A painful, sharp longing. But what for, she dreaded to confront. No. That was one Pandora's Box she would never open. Especially not with Zach by her side. "What time is it?"

"About eight. I was going to order takeaway. Sound good?"

"As long as it's not that god-awful faux-Indian place," she joked weakly. He laughed, which she supposed meant she'd passed as fine and not outwardly panicking as she was within. "Those recipes have never been within a mile of India, surely."

Zach snorted, rising to his feet and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Snob. But you're probably right. Mexican? Or Chinese?"

"Either. I'm going to take a shower," she answered, feeling the need to scrub her skin clean of dreams.

"Alright!" he called back, already halfway down the hallway, phone in hand. Eva watched the open door fondly for a moment, before darting to the bathroom and shutting its door. She stripped as fast as she could, hissing when she turned on the shower and was met with a blast of cold. But it served to wake her fully, and as the water shifted from warm to hot, she tipped her head back, the downpour cascading over her body. White noise, white sensations that blocked everything she wanted to forget. In here, all that mattered was what shower gel to use, whether to shave her legs or not, or if her hair needed washing. A squirt of coconut gel on a bath lily, vigorous scrubbing, and only then did she begin to feel herself again. Nothing bad could permeate the misted glass, this tiny world of water. And when all the foam was gone, when she stood refreshed, she turned and pressed her forehead to the wall, seeking stability. Clearly her mind was playing tricks. The voice, the dreams…  _Therapists would probably call it PTSD_ , she thought, and not for the first time did she wonder why she'd never sought psychological help after Loki had left. After all, he'd put her through Hell, and their 'relationship' had been far from healthy. Pushing, pulling, unable to break away until it was too late.

"Loki," she whispered, and her face tautened,  _hating_  the feel of that name on her tongue. Heavy. Slick. Oily. Just as filthy. There was no goodness there, no redemption, even if Sif had insisted he'd sacrificed himself. Eva could not believe that man capable of such altruism, even for his brother. Thor had probably exaggerated, in her mind. Love did that. The Thunderer had not been blind to Loki's faults, however Eva was under no illusion that Loki's death had wiped them all away; a clean slate, as it were. If only  _her_  slate could be as unblemished.

"You were a fool," came another whisper amidst the water crashing down. "Fool, Loki. And I was foolish for following. I'm  _glad_  you're dead. You can't hurt anyone anymore. And you know what? You deserve it,  _you fucking bastard_."

Silence resumed – at least in her mind. The shower provided that welcoming white noise again, and she sighed, laughing breathlessly without quite knowing why. Hysteria? Relief? Possibly both? Her hands flattened against the tiled wall, and she closed her eyes, smiling an odd smile that was neither grim nor grateful but somewhere in between.

_"How now, my little lioness?"_

Eva spun around, and her foot slipped. Her head cracked against the wall, and darkness swallowed her in slow, blurred seconds, her fingers desperately reaching for a hold that never came. Only that spurt of dizzying, blinding pain… and then nothing.

The shadow watched it all, and then, as the bathroom door burst open and the mortal betrothed ran in, it vanished, leaving chaos in its wake. That was its favourite thing to do, after all. And chaos was such a lovely, evocative word. Just as she was. So lovely. Fierce little female. Someone the shadow could be proud of.

It slid along the hallway floor, crawling through floorboards, up the cavity walls, and then settled in the rafters. Waiting was easy. It had waited for eons. A little longer would not trouble anyone. No.  _Wait, wait. Patience._ Had the shadow possessed fingernails, it might have tapped them on the wood. As it was, it merely curled around beams, watched insects scurry about, and pondered.

The shadow considered Eva Manning, and mused exactly what it was that had her circling in the centre of everything again. The girl didn't want it; she did not want anything but a simple life – that much was evident. But she would never have that, not now. Not when these events were set in motion and not even gods and monsters could alter the threads of fate.

All that was left to do was linger, and watch the girl until the time was right.

And when it was, the pendulum would swing, taking her right along with it.


	4. Fools & Feelings

Stark white met her waking eyes, followed by a rush of sound as her ears came to consciousness, and she felt someone squeezing her hand. Turning her head, she winced, and Zach's face softened. Eva smiled instinctively, but the beeping and sterile scents had her frowning.

"Oh."

"You're fine," he reassured her gently. "It's a concussion, no breaks, no bleeding. I might have overreacted, that's why you're in here. But they said if you woke up with no issues there was a good chance you'd be alright."

"How long have I…?"

"Not long. Only about an hour."

"And you're lucky," came a soft, cheerful voice as a nurse popped her head in. "Your brain scans are normal, as I'm sure your lovely young man will tell you. It's concussion. You slipped in the shower, I hear?" Moving into the curtained cubicle, she began checking vitals, papers set down on the table.

"Er… yes," Eva answered, somewhat dazed. Her head was throbbing a little, and her vision was shifting as she tried to focus on her fiancé. "Can I have some water, please?"

"Sure, sweetheart." Zach reached over for the jug and poured her a cup of water. "I'll pick you up plenty of ice later after we get home – "

In her blurred state, Eva barely caught the sight of the nurse plunging a scalpel into Zach's neck. He half-screamed, half-choked – a sound Eva never wanted to hear again – and slumped sideways, clutching the wound that had begun to spurt scarlet. Eva scrambled up, leaning towards him, half sobbing in pain and panic. The nurse turned towards her, expression nothing short of the cliché murderous.

"You whore," she hissed. "You  _fucked_  that alien and did nothing to stop his violence. You slut. And you get away scot-free? No."

Weakly, Eva backed away, desperately trying to search for something to grab, but she couldn't see properly and her head was pounding and everything was too much  _and oh god Zach –_

There was another scream, female this time, and Eva heard a horrible thud as something – some _one_  – hit the faraway wall. The room went black, and the ground vanished. Her breath snagged in her throat as she seemed to fall  _up_ , as if something was pulling her without even touching her. It tugged at her spine, her torso, and if she hadn't been so panicked and probably moving at a speed faster than humanly possible, she might have thrown up.

Gold. She was suddenly lying on cold, hard gold. A humming reverberated through this odd floor, and as she forced her eyes to focus, she saw Zach, pale and bleeding.

" _Fuck_ … Zach…"

Footsteps, heavy, powerful, and a familiar face peered at her.

_No. No, we can't be –_

Her brows creased, at once wholly disbelieving, but in her desperation she feebly pointed towards Zach.

"Help… him…"

She fainted a second later.

* * *

Of all the things to arrive in the Observatory, two injured mortals were  _not_  on Heimdall's expected list. Particularly not one who was close to death, his life spilling out in rivulets along a floor so newly constructed after those brothers nearly smashed it to ruins. A more materialistic being might have wept. Heimdall merely noted it before summoning healers. Odin would not have been happy to have two dead humans in Asgard, the guardian knew that much. And it was the woman who had caused a faint spark of worry in the man.

"Eva Manning," he whispered, watching as the healers worked tirelessly. "What have the Norns planned for you?"

The King had of course summoned Heimdall to explain the commotion, yet as Heimdall left the healing rooms, he saw Odin striding in his direction, seeming surprisingly concerned. Heimdall had never known the King of Asgard to be so worried – even Jane Foster's mishap with the Aether had not caused the stress Heimdall suddenly saw on Odin's face. And if he was worried, Norns only knew what it meant.

"How is she?" were the first words out of the elderly King's mouth. Heimdall glanced towards Eva, then to her mortal companion.

"It is he whom the healers are most attentive to," he murmured. "An injury to his neck. The lady Eva – "

"Will live," Eir spoke up from where she and her attendants were working, causing the two men to enter the hall and move towards the two occupied beds. "She has mild bruising to her brain, nothing more. The boy, too. The wound to his neck is not deep."

"And you say they simply appeared in the Observatory? Without use of the Bifrost?" Odin asked, turning to Heimdall. The latter bowed his head.

"Yes, my King. I do not know how or why, but clearly they needed aid."

"Clearly," the elder Asgardian sighed. "Make sure they are comfortable, Eir. I would speak with them when they awaken."

The healer inclined her head. "Of course, my King."

Heimdall was dismissed then. Odin lingered a moment longer, before turning on his heel and walking away.

Only when he was in his private chambers did he remove the mask – at least, for himself.

Loki stared at himself in the mirror, the long, curling hair, the piercing green eyes. And he did not like what he saw, or what he felt. To know that Eva had been attacked was one thing. But to have her back in his life? That was quite another. He'd been caught off guard, for once. And, of course, there was that dislike that had instantly arisen upon seeing that hideously glittering ring upon her finger. He knew damn well what that meant, and though he was quite used to not seeing her, to know that she had moved on so quickly was jarring, galling – especially when he had wed her a mere year before. Possession snarled in his chest, a filthy jealousy that he had not felt so strongly since Thor had found Jane Foster. It was a sensation he immediately loathed, and sought to quell. Emotion was weakness. He'd learnt that much.

However, whoever dared harm her would be punished, that was certain. It had been a risk, leaving her to the wrath of Earth; he'd been well aware of that fact. But with Sif and her companions keeping half an eye on her – as well as Heimdall – Loki had worried less and less. After all, he had a façade to maintain and a realm to rule. That was far more important than pining over some mortal girl.

Not that he was the type to pine.

But.

He found himself by her bed as night fell. Quite how, he knew not, but as he saw her face in the flesh for the first time since his capture, something in him softened. She was still as captivating as she'd been when they'd first met. Even for a being such as him, that seemed an age ago. So much had changed; so many times they'd exchanged the upper hand.

Slowly, he bent, and ran a single finger along her cheek. The texture was so soft and so familiar that nearly recoiled in shock. How many times had he stroked her skin before? How many times had he allowed himself to dwell in her beauty?

"Lena," he whispered. "Lena, Lena, Lena. Why are you here, I wonder?"

A shift in the corner of his left eye had him tilting his head, and his lips thinned.

_The boy._ If he'd been the man of years before, Loki would have ended his life in a second. Not so now. Eva would be beside herself if she awakened to find her betrothed – Norns, what a horrible word – dead, and he might even feel a sliver of guilt. Might. Having a conscience was not usual for the imposter king, not anymore. A year in prison had rid him of that sort of thing. Useless feelings. Not worth a king's attention. Not even for his almost-queen.

"Mine no longer," he mused. But then, had she ever really been his to begin with?

The boy moved in his sleep again, mumbling Eva's name, and Loki rolled his eyes. Norns help him if he was to let this imbecile live. Eva would kill him if he didn't. Odin had never been in her good books regardless; this mortal's death would hardly rectify that. There was a sort of sadistic pleasure at the thought of Eva loathing Odin as much as Loki did, however.  _The old fool._

Bored with the boy, Loki returned to Eva, watched her chest rise and fall steadily. Eir had been wonderful; Eva barely looked hurt, though he knew such injuries were not always visible. Still, Asgardian healing was far more advanced than Earth's. He doubted she would wake with little more than a slight headache. The thought filled him with an irritating sense of relief, though he resisted the urge to touch her again. Giving into temptation never solved anything, and Eva was dangerous. Any being that could stand up to Loki as she did was a danger. Perhaps not physically – the woman was fragile in comparison to any Asgardian – but he was not blind to how she had made him  _feel_. That  _weakness_  again. No, it would never do.

"Welcome to Asgard," he murmured, the tiniest smile playing on his mouth. "Oh, I have  _missed_  you."

No one saw him come. No one saw him leave. Nothing changed, save the dawning light hours later. No one could ever know what the king of Asgard hid in his old, aching bones or his war-torn heart. It was too precarious, too violent a revelation that could divide the realm and instigate war.

There were only two who might ever discover the truth.

And one of them was asleep in the healing rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have officially finished my undergraduate degree! I'll be working all summer, but I hope to be more speedy with future chapters. Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> Lightning xoxo


	5. Green

There it was. That white again. Only this time, there was no beeping. Just the awed tones of a man who'd never been anywhere but Earth. Keeping her eyes closed, Eva listened, though she already knew where she was. The beautifully familiar scents, the sounds… It was perfectly clear, though quite how she'd ended up back here was a mystery to her aching head. Her fingers clutched smooth, soft fabrics, and she forced her eyes to open once more,  _blink, blink_.

"Well, fuck," she muttered, causing Zach to whip his head round. His eyes were filled with a barely restrained fascination; in her dim state, Eva realised this must be a dream come true for a Norse scholar. (It certainly had been for her, once upon a time.) Their ancient scripts decorated many a surface, with the walls and pillars richly painted and carved; she briefly smiled at the thought of introducing Zach to the royal archives and libraries.  _He'd probably cry for joy._

"I'm awake," she reassured him, eyes fixing upon his neck before she sighed. Asgardian healing was a blessing, and certainly Zach seemed to agree, for he kept touching his unblemished throat in shock.

"Not even a scratch," was his reply, and Eva realised that Zach had probably never been in peril in his life. His free hand reached for hers, gently squeezing. "Amazing. How are you? How do you feel?" A softened gaze narrowed with concern, and Eva smiled tiredly, waving his worry away.

"I've had worse. Eir is a marvel, isn't she? Are you alright?" Her hand gripped his tightly, eyes scanning his face for any hint of horror, of terror. So far, nothing, and instead of frowning, her fiancé's eyebrows shot up.

"You've met…? Oh.  _Oh_. Of course." Zach's laugh was a little skittish, surprising Eva, whose own brows lifted. "I'm alright, you can see that. I didn't… I forgot you'd been here before. I hadn't even really considered it. Until – "

"Until now," she finished softly, and he nodded. "Well. Welcome to Asgard, Zach."

He laughed again, still nervous, but was interrupted by a deep, melodious voice that Eva loved.

"Welcome? I did not think you liked it here."

Eva's head turned, and a warm, wide grin shaped her face.

" _You_."

Laughing, Thor approached her bed, and she sat up to hug him. For all her past disasters, her memories of the Thunderer were fond. He was all that was good in Asgard, in her eyes. As he gently embraced her, she sighed, a knot in her chest seeming to unravel and ease.

"I'm alright," she assured the Asgardian prince, pulling back to look at him. "I just hit my head, that's all. I didn't expect to end up here, though. How…?"

It was not often she saw Thor without an explanation, and yet here it was. Uneasy, he glanced down, fingers flexing.

"We do not know," he finally answered, looking at her. "Not even Heimdall can fathom it. Either of you." His eyes shifted to Zach, questioning, and Eva smiled again.

"Thor, meet Zachary, my fiancé. Zach, meet Thor, prince of Asgard."

Zach's face was a picture, but somehow he managed a coherent reply, reaching to shake Thor's hand.

"Pleasure," he uttered. Thor grinned, returning the gesture, though inside he felt a little hollow. Eva seemed to have almost breezed on from her tryst with Loki, in his eyes. Was that normal for humans? Did they grieve more quickly than Asgard, since their lives were so very short?

"An honour. You are welcome here, Zachary. Don't let my father tell you otherwise."

Eva smacked Thor's shoulder at that, seeing Zach's sudden pale face, causing Thor to laugh again.

"He kids, Zach," she soothed her lover. "Odin won't push you out. Perks of being engaged to a former princess of Asgard."

_Princess of Asgard._  That hung in the air, and suddenly Thor tensed. His hand cupped Eva's cheek; neither of them had seen the other since Loki's passing, and the fresh welling of grief that rose up in her had Eva abruptly angry.

"I am so sorry," she whispered, seeing the mutual sorrow in the brother. "I didn't… Sif told me. I only found out recently. Did… did you… was the funeral…?"

"Full honours," was Thor's strained response. Relief blossomed; Loki had deserved that, at the very least. Eva's hand mirrored Thor's, feeling the scruff of his beard upon the sharp jawline. "It is I who should be apologising, Eva. I did not come myself to tell you the news, and I should have. I owed you that. Forgive me."

"No, no," she scolded gently. "I do not blame you, Thor. You need no forgiveness. You had enough to deal with. Loki and I were finished. Memories. That's all."

"You carried his child," he reminded her in return. "You were his wife, if only for a moment. And you will always be a princess of Asgard, Eva. Always."

Zach had stiffened the second Loki had been mentioned, and he looked away, turning to examine the artwork on the walls. But when the matter of a lost child was raised, his face yet again turned white. Perhaps he had not entirely realised how  _real_  Loki had been; like most, he had watched from a distance, on TV screens and computer monitors. Eva's involvement with the trickster had seemed almost dreamlike to the man – a piece of her past that could not be grasped or understood by anything but Eva Manning.

Now he was forced to confront truth, in a world he'd previously taken for myth.

Only when Thor had departed did he finally speak.

"Child?" It came out half-strangled, and Eva winced. "You were pregnant with  _Loki's child_?"

Eva closed her eyes. "Yes. I miscarried the baby."

"Why didn't you  _tell_  me?" He slowly walked back over, clearly appalled. "I knew you slept with him, but a fucking  _kid_?"

"Yes, Zach, a  _kid_!" Her raised voice made her head throb, and she reached for the goblet of water by her bed, gulping it as if it were liquid courage. "And I didn't tell you because I didn't see the point! I lost it, okay? I lost the child. And I pretended it never happened. I had to, for my own sanity. Everyone back on Earth was calling me  _whore, slut, bitch_ , and do you know how shit it was to know that the entire world hates your guts?"

"But I don't!" he insisted, moving forwards to grasp her hands. "Do you honestly think I would have run if you'd told me this? Do you?"

Tears had sprung, and Eva bit her lip, blinking rapidly.

"I don't know," she whispered. "I didn't know. How could I have judged It, Zach?" She swallowed painfully. "I was his wife on Earth for less than two weeks. He and I thought we were going to die. It was something we both wanted. And I thought if I told you this that you'd flee for the hills."

Zachary's expression slowly grew wary as it dawned on him. The horrible, horrible truth.

"'On Earth'." He swallowed. "You were married to him until he died, weren't you? "

There was a pause, a long, awful, taut silence. And then –

"Yes."

As he walked away, past the beds and out of the healing rooms, Eva stared straight ahead, trembling.

A heartbeat later, and she began to sob – for Loki, for the child, and for everything that her scarred soul had endured.

* * *

Norns, but Loki wanted to punch the boy. His presence was irritating enough, but to know that he was the cause of Eva's agony was almost too much for the god to bear. Watching Eva grieve tore at his thawed heart – a sensation he found none too pleasing. Of course, Loki could do nothing. He was supposed to be dead, after all, though the temptation to throw off the veil and step into view was oh so strong. He could steal her away, take her from that idiot human, or perhaps even reclaim his marriage.

A marriage that to all intents and purposes was ended. He'd silenced the bond on her end to maintain that illusion; however he had still been aware of her, of her emotions, her distance. It had been a damn hideous thing to endure, but endure Loki had. Far worse tortures had been suffered by him. The feelings of his wife were almost a balm – albeit a balm with hidden thorns.

And as he watched the boy return to her an hour later, hold her close and apologise, Loki wanted to unleash Hel. Wasn't that what the human myths said he did? Why not live up to it?

_Because she would loathe you for eternity._

Damn it, but that was true. And however much Loki craved to feel indifference to people's opinions, to not be enslaved by judgement, he knew that Eva's views would matter. They would  _always_  matter.

For better or for worse.

* * *

Zachary's apology had been genuine, and it only hurt. Eva knew she had lived a lie by not telling him, but as far as she'd known, Loki was in prison and unlikely to ever get out. That was no marriage, no bond for life. And though it had gnawed at her, this secret, not once had she owned up. Cowardly, she knew. But it was her own fault. Of that she was well aware. No one else could take responsibility but her. Not that she wanted anyone else to. The fundamental difference between her and Loki was their ability – or inability – to own up and own their mistakes. He had been arrogant, blind, and had ended up dead as a result. It was something no one had ever expected; Loki had been painted as a survivor. Rarely did anyone fall off the Bifröst and  _survive_. Yet he had. And he'd come back fighting, despite all his agonies and fears. So for Eva to be told that her husband had died before Thor's eyes, with a three-foot long pole in his chest… That had almost made her laugh in disbelief. Only Sif's earnest words had broken through, and for Thor to confirm it had only brought up the grief once more. Grief she'd thought long since gone.

Guards, once discovering that Eva and Zachary were well, had given them their old clothing, waited for them to change, and then escorted the two of them to guest chambers. As soon as they had entered, Eva had smiled wistfully at Zachary's awe. The chambers were beautiful, to be sure, but perhaps she was used to Asgardian splendour. This was a world she knew, in part.

What took her aback was that Thor's words appeared true. The guards treated her with every respect due a member of the royal family. They bowed, addressed her as 'Your Highness', and left Eva feeling thoroughly discomfited. It was exactly as it had been in New York. At first Eva did not think Zach had heard, but as she looked around the room, taking it all in, he spoke.

"You really are a princess."

"Only by – "

"By marriage, I know." He seemed to be making an effort, and for that she was eternally grateful. "So it doesn't stop even if…?"

"Apparently not," she answered. Zachary lay back on the huge bed, fingers splaying over the rich blue coverings, and laughed quietly. His fiancée, however, was far less at ease, staring at the bed linen. Blue. A blessedly neutral colour. Eva was damn relieved that nothing in the room was green. If it had, she might have lost it.

A knock sounded upon the door, brisk, but respectful. Eva called out, and the doors opened to reveal two maidens, carrying two wrapped packages. Eva smiled, thanking them, and yet again she was called by a title she did not even want. Hiding her chagrin, she waited until the maids were gone before touching the packages upon the bed. Pulling back the wrappings revealed a beautiful tunic and breeches for Zachary, blue and gold linings, gold thread, black fabric.

What Eva had been given was decidedly more complicated. Not in its dressing – no, Asgardian clothing was simple compared to certain historical Earth pieces – but in its symbolism.

Green. The dress was a vibrant emerald, with gold edging, and it was accompanied by a cloak that if she did not know by sight, she would certainly know by touch. Yes, it was that cloak.  _How_ , she knew not, but no other had worn one such as this but him. Her fingers reached out, hesitated, before lightly brushing the fabric.

" _Loki_ …"

Zachary, who had been talking away in his fascination, halted as he heard Eva whisper, and his eyebrow cocked.

"Loki?"

Eva did not look at him, too ensconced in memory. Only her voice hinted at having heard him.

"This… this is –  _was_  – his cloak. There must be some sort of tradition for widows. I'm not… I can't wear it." The princess of Asgard turned away from it, but Zach grasped her hand, keeping her near.

"Hey. Are you sure?"

"Yes." Her reply was curt, even if she did appreciate his effort to be alright with her past. This was an awful, tangible reminder, and she pulled her hand away from the cloak, from Zach. "I'm sure. He's gone. I moved on. Mourning period ended."

He did not look convinced, but kept silent as Eva looked in the wardrobes for something else. When she found a golden dress, that seemed to ease her a little, and she donned it quickly, smiling a little as she then helped Zach change into his Asgardian garb. Unlike her, he was still amazed by Asgard; she had the sense that if she hadn't been so quiet, he might have asked question after question.

When a knock came again, it caused a sort of relief in her.

The reason for it crushed that relief instantly.

"Your Highness. King Odin wishes to speak with you in the throne room."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm sorry this has been so long in coming. My personal life is currently a disaster, with numerous horrible things happening. But I hope it will all be resolved by the end of the summer. In the meantime, I will try not to take so long. I hope you enjoyed. Let me know your thoughts!
> 
> Lightning xoxo


	6. Coming Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A quick playlist for this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Honestly - Dommin
> 
> 2\. Couldn't Stop Caring - The Spiritual Machines
> 
> 3\. Once Upon A Dream - Lana Del Rey
> 
> Enjoy!

Putting this off would have seemed odd, even for a king such as Odin. Of course, Odin was long gone, and the body that wore his skin felt far less aged. Most of the time. Loki could still feel the aches in his bones from that fall. Sometimes he even heard the cracking, the stabs of pain. Suicide had been the aim. The result had been even less satisfying, at the time.

However, Loki was grateful he'd survived. He  _was_  a survivor. Even being impaled by that beast of Malekith's had not ended him, despite its god-awful agony.

Now, Loki wasn't sure which would be worse. A half-death by impaling, or for Eva to look upon this faked face and not know him. Oh, it had been easy enough to pretend, while she slept. After all, he'd pretended this life so often whilst in his cell. A life that was so close to the touch, so close to being real.

If only he could peel back this illusion and present himself without scandal.

As the doors swung open, he knew he would never have that chance.

And the moment Eva Manning stepped inside the throne room, awake and alert, he felt a tug that he had not felt in an age.

There she was. Her posture was regal to any strangers – and there were a  _lot_ ; the room had flooded with courtiers upon notice of the princess's return – but Loki knew her well enough to note her unease, her nerves. There was a sort of dark pleasure in the fact that her dislike for the Allfather was obvious, even now. Loki could have grinned. Laughed, even… until he laid eyes on the fabric that adorned her shoulders and framed her form.

(The maids had won; Eva had been forced by protocol to wear it, and it felt like a burden, weighing her down in an emerald chokehold.)

The Allfather, caught off guard, visibly started, his fingers gripping Gungnir until his knuckles strained. His singular eye widened, and it took a moment – one that seemed far, far too long – for composure to resume. Then he could cast that eye upon her nervous, out-of-place betrothed. A gangly, golden-haired boy. Had he been more muscular, he might have suited Asgard perfectly. But  _no_. Zachary Cowan would never find a home here. The mortal was too unnerved by the swathes of Asgardians, wary of the mutters, and downright astonished when the crowds placed fists over hearts and bowed to Eva as she walked.

It was a gesture she herself enacted as she stood before the dais, and Zachary followed suit in a near daze. Closer now, she could see the deepening lines of age upon the King's face; grief had made its mark, and not even she could blame him.

"Princess Eva."

Eva restrained the urge to correct the old man, instead lifting her head.

"Your Majesty." There was a drop of acid in her reply, meant for his ears only. And oh, Loki heard it. He'd heard it so many times before. He wanted to chuckle, smile, tease. But all he could do was eye her and exude authority.

"You return at last. I did not think you would."

Was that an admonishment? Eva's eyebrow quirked as Zachary inhaled, eyes wide.

"I had no intention, majesty. I find myself here in bemusing circumstances," she admitted honestly, causing a stir amongst the crowds, a rippling whisper of outrage. But Odin did not react.

"As I have heard," was his answer. "I trust you and your betrothed are recovered?"

_Betrothed_. The word was hissed over and over in the mob, and Eva eyed the King sharply. It was just like Odin to twist things to suit him. The princess had returned for the first time in over a year, and she had brought her  _new_  husband-to-be while her first was barely cold in his figurative grave. A slap in the face to Asgard; a scandal indeed.

"We are," she replied curtly, cocking her brow once more. "I thank you for your hospitality."

She could have sworn she saw his eyes gleam, but the moment passed, and Odin rose to his feet, dismissing the crowds. With that, Eva too rose, gesturing to Zach to follow suit.

"Come," the old man murmured. "We have much to discuss before you leave."

There was naught to do but obey.

* * *

 

It seemed an age ago that she had stood in these same buildings, marvelling as Zachary continued to do. No more. She was older now. Wiser. Weary of all this splendour, of the grandeur that was in no way delusional. Eva smiled almost wistfully as she stared out of the archway at Asgard below, her hand on the nearby pillar while she waited for the King. The stone was smooth, clearly ancient but, unlike most of Earth's old structures, it was not close to crumbling. Even in architecture, Asgard was advanced.

"I trust you called me here for a reason," she spoke calmly, not turning as she heard the door open and then close, the Allfather finally divested of his ceremonial armour. "I was not expecting anything more from you." Indeed, Odin's request had been a surprise – though his casual dismissal of Zach had not. She knew that the Allfather preferred to mix with as few mortals as possible – and her fiancé's presence was almost an insult. Zach had looked uneasy, but to Eva's relief, Fandral and Volstagg had gamely clapped the man on the back and led him away, regaling him with stories and decadent, wholly Asgardian descriptions of food and drink.

_Oh, he'll be fine._

Drawn back to the present, she heard Odin's heavy sigh, heard the clink of goblets and the pouring of wine. Almost immediately she regretted her flippant tone, for it occurred to her just how much this king had lost. Eva felt a hideous pang as she thought of Frigga – and then of Loki. Much as she might have accepted she would never see him again, it still ached at the knowledge that he was dead.

"Nor I," came the Asgardian king's strained tone, and Eva half turned to accept the goblet he offered her. Her eyes took in his face; he seemed far more aged than she had ever seen him, and she quashed the sudden urge to embrace him, to apologise for all that had happened. It had all gone to pieces, and she had been oblivious, too wrapped up in the world of academia to even truly think of Asgard. Oh, she  _thought_  of it – how could she not, since her specialism was Norse mythology and religion? – yet it hadn't occurred to her that disaster could have befallen the realm so soon after Loki had been incarcerated.

"Odin…" It was the first time she had ever used his name thus, and his face softened, before he waved her concerns away.

"No, no, do not say it," he exhaled, voice as weary as his expression. "The fault was mine."

"I'm sure Thor doesn't see it that way. What happened with Malekith…" She swallowed, choosing to distract herself with a sip of the wine – wine that had been watered down for her, she noted with a wry sort of amusement amidst her regret. (The stories of their alcohol were all too true, and she had no wish to end up on the floor.) "It was five thousand years in the planning. Literally. You could never have seen it coming. Even Heimdall did not."

Turning, she leant back against the pillar, the late afternoon sunlight illuminating her face – and the diamond ring that gleamed on her left hand. It had not gone unnoticed by the king, but he had not commented upon it.

"Now, what did you wish of me?" she asked quietly, for once gentle towards the man she once viewed as near insufferable. "How can I help?"

He stared at her, and for a moment she saw the old calculation surface, the scrutiny.

"I wished to apologise," he answered, as soft as she. "Loki's funeral… I should have informed you of it. But I did not believe you wished to return when you were so desperate to get away." It was unspoken, the addendum.  _You were his wife, a princess of Asgard. And I ignored you._

'You're forgiven," Eva said, with a shrewd look at him. Odin did not usually show remorse. Not to her. What was he playing at?

The king laughed at her expression, moving to sit. "Ah, Eva, I do not have anything for you but that apology. I have no plans, no motives. Only an old man seeking forgiveness."

Her lips quirked, and she inclined her head.

"Then it is granted… old man."

Another laugh, this time good-humoured, and he saluted her with his goblet.

"Quite right." He took a sip, and she followed suit with a smile. He opened his mouth to speak, but there came a knock by the open door. Fandral stood in the doorway, and gave a graceful bow upon see Eva.

"My king, my lady, forgive the interruption, but there is a dispute in the courtyard that the officials cannot resolve. If you would be so kind as to see to it yourself, your Majesty… There is a matter of one being held at the point of a sword."

Eva winced, and Odin's expression darkened, but he stood, setting his goblet down and throwing her an unexpectedly apologetic look. She shook her head, gesturing.

"No, no, please! Go and resolve it. I will quite happily remain here."

With a bow, Odin took his leave, and Fandral smiled at Eva before the door swung gently shut.

"Don't let Zach get in those fights!" she shouted after him, and she heard the warrior's hearty laugh in answer. Shaking her head with a rueful smile, she sighed, and sat upon the couch, goblet still in hand. Eyes slid shut, preferring the darkness to the brilliance – but they shot open a moment later at the sound of soft laughter. Oh, that laughter. Of course, he was not there. He would never be there. Never again. Her fingers pressed against the green fabric of the cloak, and impulsively she brought it to her nose, inhaling.

Only the faintest trace of something resembling Loki's scent remained, but it was enough to spark a horrible, horrible longing in her, memories pouring forth. His deft, clever hands, running over her skin, through her hair, holding books out to her. His smile, oft cruel, always teasing. Christ, it had been the unhealthiest relationship known to man.

And yet.

Suddenly disgusted with herself, she threw the cloak down, exhaling, and she was walking out of Odin's chambers before she knew what her feet were doing. Servants and guards alike inclined their heads as she passed, something that still made her skin crawl, but she said nothing. It would have been pointless. Asgard was rooted in tradition. To change would be a shock to their very (ancient) system.

_And I don't have the strength to care._

Her feet walked and walked, and she did not really see where she was going until she nearly collided with Thor. His hand shot out to grasp her arm, and she halted, brought out of her trance to see concerned eyes and a sober expression.

"Eva?"

"Thor, I – " She paused, wordless, but he gently steered her along a path. Bemused, Eva remained silent… until they stopped outside a double door entrance. The guards stationed there nodded in respect, before they opened the doors. She glanced at Thor, brow lifting, yet all he did was usher her inside.

As the doors closed, she realised exactly where he'd brought her. She'd never seen it before, but she'd know it anywhere.

"Thor…"

"Yes. This was his. All of it," he said quietly, and Eva wanted to weep.

Loki's suite. Eva swallowed; hands clenched, fought the urge to run and never look back. She'd never been good at confronting her past. This only made that all the more obvious.

"It's all here –  _why_?"

"No one had the will to remove it," was Thor's pained reply. "Mother forbade it, and Father could not deny her."

Transfixed, Eva moved about the room, gazing in awe at the rows and rows of bookshelves, each lined with volumes that her heart immediately yearned to peruse. Metal instruments that she dared not touch for fear she might break them. Pens, ink – and papers covered in writing she recognised all too well. But the only thing she could bring herself to feel was the fabric of his bed linen, luxurious, befitting a prince in shades of gold and cream. Images of the two of them tumbling into this bed, laughing and pretending at a healthy bond, burned themselves into her brain, and she grasped the dark-wood bedpost, trembling.

"He loved you," Thor murmured. "You deserve to see his life away from pain, Eva. This was he. An inventor, tinkerer, botanist, magician. He was always happier among his materials. And I should never have let my father view him as he did."

"It wasn't your fault," she whispered, slowly sinking to her knees. "You didn't know what would happen."

He laughed grimly.

"I was a fool, Eva. A damn fool. He was always the wiser. And I thought there was a chance at redemption."

"No." Eva turned her head to gaze at him, eyes shimmering. "Redemption was never his style and you know that. You can't make excuses for him. Neither can I. He was a cruel, angry, desperate man. He only had himself to blame, Thor. Imagined insults and all."

His sigh was heavy, yet it was all the answer Eva needed. She righted herself, standing tall, and though she did not relinquish the bedpost, she felt a tad stronger. It was only a suite of rooms, after all. How much damage could they really inflict?

"I return to Earth soon," he spoke eventually. "I will take you and Zachary with me. If there is anything here you wish to take, please do."

A pause, then –

"No. There is nothing here for me."

Thor bowed his head. "Very well. There will be a feast to honour you tonight, and then we shall leave."

Eva visibly winced, and he laughed, gently holding her shoulder.

"Are you not pleased, my lady?"

"Call me that again, and I swear to all the Norns – "

He cut her off in a hug, still shaking with laughter, and she smiled despite her anguish.

He left without another word, and as the doors swung shut once more, Eva was left in a lair that had haunted her for months. A lair she had never known in sight before now. But it screamed  _Loki_ , especially the helmet sitting on top of a cabinet. Inexplicably curious, she walked over, gazing at her own reflection in the polished metal.

"All I want is to get away from you," came the agonised whisper. "But you just keep coming back."

_Why do you keep coming back?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am officially a Master's student - booyah! Happy days. I've been so busy packing for the move to university (it's almost 450 miles away!) and also our house move. But I hope this chapter was okay!
> 
> Lightning xoxo


	7. Fare You Well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Playlist for this chapter -
> 
> 1\. Kill 'Em With Kindness - Selena Gomez
> 
> 2\. Knocking on Heaven's Door - Raign
> 
> Enjoy!

Later that evening, Eva sat between Thor and Volstagg at the feast – despite her reservations, she found herself quietly enjoying it. Zach sat opposite, eagerly tasting everything Volstagg put before him as they exchanged all manner of jokes that transcended cultures. Like Eva, Thor remained almost subdued, his mind lingering over Loki. The walk into his suite had brought up so many poignant reminders that his face, when everyone else was distracted, slipped into sobriety. Eva's hand on his vambraces –  _Loki's_  vambraces – had been hard to stomach, especially as they'd both walked out of Loki's rooms.

But not before Thor had propositioned her – gentle, unassuming.

"Eva… I know you walked away from Loki. I know you left him. But if you ever have need of me, of my help, you need only call for me. Whatever it is, whenever you need."

Blinking back touched tears, Eva had shaken her head.

"No, Thor. I thank you, but I am secure. Zach and I… we are fine. We're not struggling, I promise you."

Relief had doused his face, and he'd kissed her forehead.

"You are always welcome here,  _systir_. Asgard will give you a home if ever you require it."

"I thought your father didn't approve," she teased, and Thor gave a rueful laugh.

"He will learn."

Now, at the feast, Eva placed her hand over Thor's as he grasped his tankard, and she offered a soft smile. He nodded, eyes warming, and she relaxed an inch, her own fingers reaching for her cup of wine. It had been a strange evening. Despite her declaration of betrothal, she'd had men coming up time and time again, requesting a dance. She was not naïve enough to be blind to politics anymore; she knew well what they wanted, even though she was but mortal and no Asgardian. Only the title mattered, it seemed. Each request was turned down, one by one, and she noticed Zach's wry smile each time.

"Not going to appease the masses?" he asked, after the fifth rejection. 

"God, no," she answered, chuckling. "I'm really not in the mood to show off my dancing tonight. Besides, I was never actually taught any Asgardian steps. But  _they_  look keen." Eva nodded towards a group of women eyeing Zach. "Why don't you show them how it's done on Earth?"

The women had seen Eva's gesture, and in a flurry of fabric and giggles they had Zach up on his feet and dancing before he'd even swallowed his gulp of ale. Eva sat back, the corner of her mouth tugging, and Fandral and Volstagg roared with laughter at Zach's startled air as the women whirled, pulling him with them. In that moment, all was carefree, drunk happiness, blind joy. Eva could not help but laugh, and she leant again Thor as they sat watching. His arm came around her side, gently holding her shoulder, and she sighed.

"He's a lucky man," Thor murmured in her ear. "To have your love."

"We're both lucky." Her hand squeezed the one upon her shoulder. "We're both free to do what we want."

As Eva and Zach stood in the Observatory, the latter could not help but stare back across the bridge at the glorious city they had just left. It made her grin to see his awe. Thor and Heimdall had both noticed it; they too wore smiles, even the usually stoic gatekeeper. But it could no longer be put off. Eva was desperate to return, and Odin had seemed all too pleased to hear of it.

_"Go, then. Live your life with your mortal boy. My blessings on you both."_

Heimdall had – still formally – bid them goodbye, but Thor had clasped Zach's arm as if they were brothers, and when he came to Eva? She was surprised he didn't crack any of her ribs with the hug he gave her. It was an embrace that almost made her cry, for she knew in her lifetime she might never see him again. He was a link to a life she wanted to leave, and she knew that he knew it. Nevertheless, his expression was warm, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Be safe, Eva. Fare you well."

"And you…  _bróðir_."

His eyes crinkled.

* * *

 

In the depths of New York, in an alley, an old man stirred. Clothed in tattered, grimy pieces, he clung to a blue sheet tied and wrapped around his body. A body that ached, that hungered, that thirsted. A body that had never known such deprivation, until now.

A group of teenagers walked past, clutching cartons of fried food. Seemingly finished, they tossed the remains in the man's direction, completely oblivious to his presence.

As they passed, further and further down the alley, the old man stared at the cartons, still warm with food.

Odin Allfather reached for each one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a short one, but I thought this would tie into all the behind the scenes photos and videos we've been getting from Brisbane for Thor 3! Who's excited? I know I am. 
> 
> Lightning xoxo


	8. You Can’t Feel Pain In Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And I've officially started my MSc! Exciting times. I love Scotland to bits. 
> 
> Playlist:
> 
> We Don’t Talk Anymore - Charlie Puth (ft. Selena Gomez)
> 
> Somebody I That I Used To Know - Gotye (ft. Kimbra)
> 
> You’ve Been Flirting Again - Björk
> 
> Clean - Taylor Swift

And then they were touching ground in London town.

Three months blissfully passed. Things came almost resolutely to normal. Asgard was hardly spoken of between Eva and Zach; as PhD students, they both had other issues to focus on, and they had no intention of veering from the path ahead. Even marriage plans were put on hold; though they knew they wanted to marry, neither was at that point in their lives, and both were perfectly content to wait. After all, with Loki dead, there was no rush. No other Asgardians came to London, and Eva was left undisturbed.

So undisturbed, in fact, that when a request came from Columbia University in New York City, she didn't think twice about accepting it. Universities all over the northern hemisphere wanted her to visit, to get her to examine literature and artefacts that had Old Norse significance – despite Eva having written papers explaining that Old Norse and Asgardian, though linguistically similar, were still very much separate languages. Had she been the Eva of weeks ago, she might have hesitated. New York was a shadow, a blight on her history. But if it gave her a chance at proper closure…

"You should go for it," Zach had encouraged as they lay in bed, Eva resting her head on his chest, legs tangled together. "It'll give you a break from thesis madness. You need that."

"You're too good to me."

His grin was puckish. "Oh, I know. I know."

Eva pressed a kiss to his stomach, running a finger along the line of hair from his navel. His own fingers caressed her curls, and he hummed quietly.

"Sure you'll be alright without me?" she asked softly. His thumb traced patterns, and the grin softened.

"I'll be fine. Go. You'll have a whale of a time. Just make sure the department knows where you're going otherwise they'll be pissed as fuck."

She snorted. "Don't I know it."

"You're the star attraction, Evie, remember?"

A smack to his thigh, and Zach smothered his giggles into a cushion as Eva straddled his waist.

"That's it, you're done for – "

"Parley! I said  _parley_!"

* * *

 

It was a strange dichotomy, really. The public loathed her. Academia couldn't get enough of her. She knew the latter only happened because they were running blind otherwise, and they never could resist a chance at fresh knowledge. Eva had been in New York for a week already, deep into research and assistant work. Despite her reservations, she had found that New York did not hold quite as much horror as she had dreaded. She still wore a wig and sunglasses out in public, but inside university buildings, she could be herself.

Coming face to face with the Chrysler again, however, had been awful. She wondered if they'd changed the inside, if they'd stripped the suites and reverted them back to their previous functions. She wouldn't blame them. As tourists snapped photos and took selfies, she stood outside, looking up through those tinted glasses. How tall it seemed now. No less imposing, and that cold still curled around her heart at the thought of all that had occurred in that building. Hell, she'd almost been dropped from the top of it. Dancing the tango had been one thing, but a near-death experience was quite another.

Shuddering, Eva moved on, hurrying down the street. Even now, that hand curved around her cheek, another alighting on her waist. The gentle pressure, the silken tone, roughed only when angry or passionate. Often both. His voice echoed in her head, repeated phrases, words of almost-love, almost-hate. Eyes closed momentarily in frustration, and she bit her lip. This was a mistake. It had to be. She wasn't ready to face this city. It was too much, too soon.

Eva was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't see the taxi.

* * *

 

"My. Abandonment doesn't suit you either, does it?"

Loki stood in the alleyway, gazing down at his once-father. The place was a hovel, and Odin sat against the brick wall, wrapped in a dirty duvet and whatever clothes the old man had managed to scrounge up. He was sleeping, and Loki remained invisible. His pleasure, however, was tangible, and the imposter let loose a soft laugh.

"As the mortals say,  _serves you right_."

He turned just in time to hear a horrid screech of tyres and a scream outside the alleyway, a block or so away. He rolled his eyes – humans were so careless – but then he heard it.

_"It's her! It's the whore!"_

_"It's the fucking whore! What the fuck – "_

_"Why is she here? The nerve!"_

Loki reappeared by the commotion, and he stared.

"Eva."

That blonde hair was unmistakeable, and it lay still against the tarmac. His heart stuttered – and then rage surged as he saw the barrel.

"You deserve every bit of this, you  _bitch_  –"

The gun went off amidst cries of horror.

But the bullet never even met its target.

"Next time," Loki spoke, walking through the mob that suddenly parted in shock as he moved forwards, visible now, bullet between finger and thumb, "do not use a gun. I find knives so much more personal."

The dagger sliced the man's throat before the filth had time to blink, and he slumped, gagging. Ignoring the shrieks of the crowd, Loki knelt. Eva's eyes were wide, and he caressed her face.

"I'm here," he soothed. "You will be alright."

He lifted her in his arms, and they vanished.

Eva felt the monster lay her down on the sofa, and still speech would not come. Her arm was ablaze with pain, but all that sounded was a whimper as her former lover gently tended to the bones. His fingers were light, and she hissed as she felt the bones click. Thumbs massaged the skin, green light pouring within _. Damn him damn him damn him –_

"There," he murmured. "A little bruising, but you will be fine – "

The sharp crack of a slap echoed in the apartment, and Eva was sat up, breathing heavily. Loki's head shot to the side at the impact, and he laughed, albeit shakily.

"Surprise?"

" _You_ ," she rasped, and she didn't know whether to cry or scream or laugh. "You're alive. You're alive, you're alive!" Her eyes flitted over his form, and she struggled for words again, plainly overwhelmed.

"This is a dream. You are not here. You cannot be here –  _how_?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it  _matters_!" Eva made to slap him again, but he caught her wrist the moment sobs caught in her throat. Crying, then. "You were  _dead_!" She lowered her head, great breaths trying to steady themselves.

"Eva."

Oh, that  _voice_. That beautiful, terrifying, achingly  _familiar_  voice. Hating every second, she allowed herself to look up at him, to savour what she might see. And what –  _who_  she saw had her heart squeezing, tears threatening; she rose to her feet, wary despite the mix of emotions in her soul. If he was here, then what had the funeral been? Was all that a lie?

"You can't be here," she repeated. It all made sense now. The voices, the touch, all phantoms those past few months.  _He_  was a phantom. Her arm hadn't really been broken. It was all a dream. This was still a dream. And it wasn't fair. "I want to wake up now."

Loki's eyes tightened, and he too stood. His fingers brushed her skin; she recoiled, shaking her head, backing away.

"It's just a dream, just a dream..."

"You can't feel pain in dreams," he reminded her softly. "And you just broke your arm." He took her hand, and placed something in her palm.

"I am real. Lena. And I am here."

Eva looked down at her hand – and sobs wracked her form. The bullet was there, right there, the one the man had fired at her, and Loki had saved her life,  _again_  –

"Loki." A single breath, a plea, a refute, and there was his hand on her cheek once more, cold to the touch, as it always had been. It was his face, the classical beauty, the crooked smile, the piercing eyes, the hair, the tailored suit.

Eva threw her arms around him before she could think. There was a pause, and his own enfolded her tightly, his nose pressed into the crook of her neck. He could not bear it any longer, and with a simple thought, he allowed their connection to flood open. Dead for months, on his wish, and Eva sobbed openly as she felt their bond again, utterly lost in emotion, his emotion, hers. It was so powerful that neither of them could speak, and even Loki, so often reluctant to shed those tears, found himself with wet cheeks. Later he would deny it, yet for now?

He drew back, cupping her face; thin lips pressed a kiss to her forehead, exhaling.

"Eva, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

"What happened?" Eva met his eyes, startled to see that they were as full of tears as hers. "Sif… They told me you were dead… Thor confirmed it… Loki, I…"

"Hush," came his voice, the pads of his thumbs wiping away stray emotion from under her eyes. "What matters is that I am here, and you are not dead from a fool's ire."

A half-choked laugh sounded then, eliciting the gentlest of smiles from his mouth.

"You could wash your damn hair, you know," she pointed out, and he too laughed.

"Alas, I had other things on my mind. You being one of them."

Everything hurtled back to reality in that moment, and Eva stepped back, swallowing, building her walls as quickly as she could. Hugging him had been impulsive, but a mistake, one she was shocked to have made. Simply caught up in the moment. That had to have been it. He was a cold-blooded killer, a cruel man, and one who would think nothing of abduction if it suited him. Her skin crawled; she'd embraced him so easily that she wondered if he'd left a deeper mark than she'd believed.

"I… We… I left you."

_Ah, there it is. Back to the uncertainty of all that time ago._  Emotional closeness over, Loki almost sighed, his tears swiftly ended.

"You did. I did not assume this would be that kind of reunion."

_Liar, liar._

"You just wanted to drop in and say hi. Right." Eva massaged the newly mended arm, marvelling at how easily it had healed. That, at least, was a useful trick. "Never mind that you've not seen me for a year, and been dead for I don't know how long."

"I am not blind. I know you're with another."

Her eyebrows shot up. "How did you know – "

"Your ring."

Eva blinked, glanced down at the row of diamonds. Her cheeks coloured, and she swallowed. In another time, that might have amused him. He might have even laughed. But all that time convincing his mind that he was immune to her feelings had crumbled in a moment. The bond flared with her uncertainty, with his uncertainty, and there was silence. Eva fingered the gold band, watching light glint off the gems. Zach's face had been so hopeful, so loving, and, caught up in the rush, she had said yes.

"His name is Zachary," she said softly. "He's a student, like me."

"And he's accepted your past?" Disbelief, and Eva reddened.

"Does that bother you?"

"No, I… I'm impressed," he answered, honest for once. "I would not have thought any mortal would. At least, not easily. Your phone is vibrating."

Startled, Eva reached for her bag, pulling out said phone. Her face tautened, but she hit the touchscreen and held it up to her ear.

"Zach – "

"Oh, thank God. Are you alright? I just saw the news, and someone shot you, and – " He suddenly went so quiet, and Eva closed her eyes as she waited.

"Is it him?"

There it was. Eva exhaled.

"I'm fine, Zach. I'm fine. I wasn't shot. Just a broken arm – well, it was broken. I… He fixed it."

"… He?"

"Yes, Zach. Loki."

It was Zach's turn to exhale, and Eva risked a look at Loki. His eyebrows were sky-high, lips pursed. His eyes were dark. And he looked very much like he wanted to throttle her fiancé.

"I thought he was – "

"So did I, Zach, so did we all," Eva cut in, a little irritated. "But here he is. I don't know how or why, but he is."

There was a pause.

"I'm coming over there."

Eva sighed again. "Zach, no. I'm fine. I can handle one resurrected Asgardian – Jotun," she corrected hastily after seeing Loki's reaction. "And no offence, love, but if you're planning to protect me, you'd need god-level powers. I can look after myself. And Loki isn't going to try anything. If he does, I know where his weak spots are. Trust me. I could destroy him with words quite easily."

Loki let out a scornful laugh, but Eva cocked a brow, mouthing 'don't test me'.

Of course Zachary heard the laughter, for when he spoke again, he was quiet, almost sad.

"He's really there, isn't he?"

"Yeah, babe," she replied, just as soft. "He is. I'll be home in a few days, I promise. I just need to finish up my work here. Okay? I love you."

She did not see Loki's mirth fade at that, too focused on her current lover.

"… Okay. I love you too. Be safe."

Eva ended the call, and placed her fingers and thumb to her temple and cheek, massaging. The shitstorm was brewing fast; she half expected SHIELD to burst through her door at any moment. But perhaps they had learnt by now to leave her alone. She certainly hoped so, at any rate.

"Eva."

"No." She got up, walking over to the kitchen area and switching on the kettle. "There is nothing for you to say. Ever. I'm grateful you saved my life – how could I not be? – but we have nothing to discuss. You and I parted. We are no longer part of each other's lives, and I don't want to be. I have a life. With universities and research and a man I love so very much, a man I want to marry and spend the rest of my very short mortal life with."

"You cannot marry him."

"Oh, for god's sake, Loki." She whirled to face him – but instead of sadness, she found vague amusement upon his pale features. Exasperated (and in no mood for his games), she leant back against the counter, eyebrow yet again lifting as she popped teabags into a teapot.

"And why not?"

"Because you are already married," he remarked, as if it were obvious. "To me."

She almost dropped the teapot.

"No. No, no,  _no_  – you  _died_! Until death do us part!"

"I didn't die. I merely silenced the bond to make you think I did. I knew you wanted to move on. I let you. But it seems trouble follows you wherever you go. I imagine you'd be considerably more  _motionless_  had I not been there today." His hand closed on the teapot, and he placed it on the counter, pouring the tea as though he were merely visiting for pleasure. Somewhat blindsided, Eva set two cups down on the kitchen table, and Loki poured while she sat down, idly stirring the spoon in the sugar bowl.

"Why?" she asked. "What happened?"

Loki cooled his tea a little with a gesture, and matched her movement with his own spoon in his cup.

"That, as you humans say, is a long story."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Very well." His eyes studied her for a moment. "I must warn you, it is not pleasant."

"I'm no wilting flower, Loki. I've seen how cruel you can be."

A wry smile threatened, and he took a sip of tea.

"Quite right. I'm glad you have not forgotten."

"Get on with it."

He sobered, and setting his cup down, began to speak. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:... Yep. It happened. I rewrote and rewrote, but I think I'm happy with it. Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Lightning xoxo


	9. A Flaw In The Mechanism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello, hello! I promise I have not abandoned this story, but with three very large essays and a PhD proposal plus PhD applications to complete before Christmas, my focus has been elsewhere. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this little bit. 
> 
> Playlist:
> 
> · I'm Alive – Shinedown
> 
> · Daydream – Ruelle
> 
> · Me, Myself & I – G-Eazy & Bebe Rexha
> 
> · Kiss The Girl – Chase Holfelder

Eva knew he'd never tell her everything. It was in Loki's nature to hide things, to keep sides to himself. She was much the same – she'd never told Zach she'd nearly mothered Loki's child, after all. A flaw in her character perhaps. Certainly a flaw in Loki's. His eyes were too expressive – but she knew that that expression could be entirely planned, manufactured. He was a master at manipulation. There was a reason he delighted in trickery, and he'd pulled off the greatest trick not once but twice. Death had reached for him a second time, and he'd slipped free again. Eva would have been lying if any denial of relief had been made on her part, however.

"I know you lot aren't immortal, but shit, Loki," she finally spoke, hands cupping her mug. "You are the luckiest fucker alive."

"Thank you for that oh so eloquent declaration." His lips twitched.

"Not many could pull off surviving a spear through their torso. Although a human did survive a pole through their brain once. All that changed was personality and a slight reduction of emotion control. He was still physically able."

Loki's eyebrow delicately lifted. "I would rather not test that theory myself."

"Yes, I know you're very fond of your intellect."

There was a pause, and Eva glanced down, stirring her tea. It was a motion Loki well recognised, and he steeled himself for whatever it was she was trying to decide.

"Do Asgardians have an equivalent to divorce?" Only then did she look up at him, and  _oh Norns it hurt._  Loki swallowed, but inclined his head.

"Yes. Do you not remember Odin offering you severance?"

"I do, but I thought that was an exceptional circumstance. He certainly made it sound like one." Her voice had quietened, the trademark lip bite making an appearance. Loki sighed.

"It is. Asgardians do not chop and change partners so regularly as humans seem to do these days. I married you for an admittedly unusual reason, however."

"Possible death."

"That would be the one, yes. I cannot often be accused of letting my heart run away with me, but that choice would be an exemption to the rule."

"Well, what do you know? Loki has a heart." A wry smile, a tilt of her head, and Loki laughed softly.

"As much as I am loath to admit it, it would appear I do," he conceded, lifting his cup to his lips. It allowed his hand a distraction, a moment to clear his thoughts. She wanted severance. Of course she did. After all the catastrophic events, all the bitterness and violence threading through their relationship, he could hardly blame her. In a far less stable moment, he had almost intentionally dropped her from the top of the Chrysler. Not exactly model husband behaviour, even by Asgardian standards. And then there was the family intimidation, the bruises on her skin, the callous arguments.

No, she deserved better. Far better.

Whether 'better' was that odious boy still remained to be seen.

"We need to let each other go," Eva spoke, and the gentleness in her tone made him ache. "We aren't good for each other, and even though I'm highly relieved you're not dead, I'm engaged to another whom I love very much. I know you loathe Odin, but he needs to do this for us. And then you can go back to hating him."

Had he been less skilled at deception, Loki's face would have frozen. It might have even cracked with mirth. Oh, but this  _was_  funny. She did not know. No one knew, not even Thor. There was every chance the oaf would barrel through New York in search of his 'brother' after seeing the news, but for now, Loki was fairly certain he could remain hidden.

Of course, there was a small matter of the trickster having to manage both his illusion as Odin and a double at once. Not impossible, but if corporeality was needed for his double… That could be tricky. And call him selfish, but he didn't  _want_  this divorce, as the mortals called it. Eva was useful. She was clever. He might even love her. If he dared admit to that. Jealousy was a fearsome beast, clawing at his chest every moment he looked at her. Yet the demise of her new lover was out of the question. At least he'd matured somewhat there. No bloodshed, no death, no pain. He'd seen Eva bitterly argue with Zachary before, and Loki had not liked the unease it had left inside him. Eva's unhappiness influenced his own, for he still felt the bond, even if he'd ensured she did not.

And he knew she could feel every bit of his emotions in that moment. Their eyes met; a long, agonising silence prevailed. Neither dared move, dared breathe. It was too much. Love, anguish, rage, resignation, envy, longing. Such a maelstrom. It roared between them in the deathly quiet of the apartment. As Eva touched his hand, he almost flinched, and she inhaled, drawing her fingers back. Yet a moment later, his hand was flat against hers, ever surprised at the physical warmth of humanity. He wondered if his skin would ever be that temperate. Unlikely. But Eva had never seemed averse to the chill of his flesh. Perhaps it was not nearly as severe as he'd believed.

"Loki…" Her voice was a whisper, and he withdrew, rising to his feet.

"Finish your tea. You will feel better."

"Where are you _going_?"

He had no idea. He vanished without a word, and Eva was left staring at the empty air.

Yet again, she did not notice the shadow slither across the floor; it settled in a dim corner, content to watch.

And by the time the knocking began in earnest on the front door, it was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: welp. so that happened. don't kill me?
> 
> Lightning xoxo


	10. An Apology.

**A/N: I know. It's been a while. A long while. How dare you! you cry.**

**Here's the thing. I got sick. _Really_ sick. I am still ill. Chronically ill, in fact. I now have four disabilities, at the age of 23. What was meant to be a year-long master's degree has in fact been a 'six months study, then nine month health break, then returning to uni to finish it' master's degree. I am still ill. That's not going away. But I will come out with a master's degree, and then rest and recuperate for a year at least. My body needs it. My mind needs it. **

**But what does this mean for Loki and Eva?**

**I always planned to come back to them. I always planned to finish their story.**

**But.**

**I saw Infinity War two days ago. I am... not happy. I am also emotionally dead from the shock of it. The... situation of certain characters has left me uncertain quite how to proceed with this fic. I will have to rethink certain things, now that I have facts and information I didn't have a year and a half ago, as well as the complete disaster of a plot that was Thor: Ragnarok.**

**So - aside from my big, fuck-off thesis, I am slowly concocting new ideas and new paths. I'm excited. I've missed Loki and Eva. And if any of you are still here and still enthusiastic about them - thank you. Thank you, thank you, _thank you_.**

**Their story will be told in full. I promise you.**

**Just please, be patient with me.**

**As Loki once said, "It'll come. In time."**

**\- Lightning.**


End file.
